To the left of the road stood a Jeep: a soldier was slumped forward in
the front
seat and another lay crumpled in the rear, apparently the victims of an
ambush. I
called for the driver to stop, but he traveled about fifty yards before
he could.
There, opposite us on the right side, lay two more men, apparently
dead. However,
as we ground to a stop one man raised himself on his elbow and feebly
waved his
hand. I thought it was a signal of distress. But then I heard him call,
"Japs!!
Keep going!" I called out, "Where?" and he pointed over his shoulder
and replied,
"Eight or ten, that way."

By now one of my men, a German named Herman who used to be in the Nazi
Army,
called "I'm going to get him. Who's going with me?" I said, "Wait a
minute, and
we'll all go." I wanted to size up the situation first, although it was
pretty
obvious and not very encouraging. We could see that the Japs had
already
destroyed a force equal to ours, and by the warning of the wounded man
there were
still eight or ten Japs, double our number, in the vicinity. Frankly, I
was
plenty frightened. It seemed like certain death to stop. My head said,
"Let's get
out of here." But somehow my heart wouldn't let me. I will confess that
it was
far from easy to get out of the cab and into the open where the wounded
man was.
In that terrible moment I tested myself. I had often wondered what I
would do,
and now I had to decide.

Of course, there was only one decision, and once I had made it and
gotten out of
that lovely protected cab, I never again felt the slightest hesitation
or for
that matter, oddly enough, the slightest fear. I ordered three of the
men with
guns to stand ready facing the direction we thought the Japs were in,
and another
man to follow me. All of this took less time than it does for me to
tell it. We
reached the wounded man and lifted him up and carried him back to the
truck,
where we placed him on the litter from which we removed the body that
had been
there. When we reached him he had said, "Don't stay for me. Get the
h..l out of
here. I'm finished anyhow." He was willing to stay there and die rather
than put
is in peril. In fact he seemed quite annoyed that we wouldn't do what
he said.

After we had gotten him to safety, I went back to the man he had been
lying near,
to see if he were alive. He wasn't. Then, although I felt certain that
the men in
the Jeep were dead, I had two of my men stay by the truck while two
went with me
the long, long 150 feet or so to the Jeep. There I made certain they
had died,
and then wasted no time getting back to the truck and on our way.

In the truck I sat holding the wounded man because he wanted to sit up
and I
thought he would be comfortable leaning against me. I then began to
worry about
the ambulance and also the officers, coming after us---fearing that
they would
receive no warning. We drove fast because we wanted to get the wounded
man to the
hospital, because we wanted to warn the Regimental Headquarters to
phone back and
stop all vehicles, and because we were just plumb anxious to get out of
there
ourselves.

We had gone about two miles when we met a patrol, with an ambulance,
coming out
to the scene of the ambuscade. We learned that two vehicles, unknown to
us, had
passed by the ambush scene, refused to face the peril of stopping, but
reached
the Regiment to warn them and get a patrol on the way. We transferred
the wounded
man to the ambulance and went on to Headquarters. The patrol continued
to the
scene of the ambush where they encountered the Japs. They killed two
Japanese,
but the rest escaped. Why---since clearly they were still there---the
Japs didn't
fire on us, I will never know. Perhaps it was the Providential care of
which I am
constantly conscious. Obviously it wasn't because of the pitiful force
we had.

The courage of my men was superb. Even if I had ordered them not to
stop, I think
they would have insisted on it, although they knew the odds against
them. As for
the wounded man, his anxiety for our safety was beyond praise. They had
been
ambushed, two of his companions were killed at once, he and the third
had run for
the cover they never reached as the Japs dropped them with fire on the
way. He
had then seen the Japs shoot again, bayonet the three dead men, and
then start
for him. He played dead, so they shot him and passed on. That he could
be
willing, after such a terrifying experience, to stay there and die so
we might be
safe, that was as brave a thing as I have ever heard of. At my
recommendation the
Command is considering awarding him a medal---posthumously, as the poor
lad died
the next day. He had seven wounds.

As a matter of fact we might all be awarded one---the General commended
me
verbally---if it were not for the technicality that we were not under
fire! That,
I think, detracts nothing from the courage of the men since they had
every reason
to believe that they were walking into a dangerous situation. However,
we are not
interested in medals. I know we receive the Order of the Good Samaritan
since we
refused to pass by on the other side as two other groups had done, but
stopped
and brought in the man from the Jerico road.

I told you I wouldn't walk into danger and I won't, but sometimes
danger comes to
you and there is nothing you can do but face it and see it through. I
wonder if
the original good Samaritan was as scared as I was before I went over
to give
aid. That is something the Bible commentaries have missed. Sometime I
might write
a book on biblical experiences in war time. ...

On this Sabbath I have just completed a most satisfactory morning.
Several days
ago the Division Chaplain asked me to take the service. As it turned
out, we have
fine USO entertainers here: a quartet of two men and two women,
accompanied by a
lady on the piano, singing classical and semi-classical music. The
soldiers have
responded well, in part because the young ladies, who might not be
considered
great beauties back home, here appear to be a combination of Cleopatra,
Delilah,
and Ginger Rogers.

After one entertainment I asked if they would sing at my service on
Sunday. They
agreed: one young woman sang Ave Maria and the other the Lord's Prayer,
while the
tenor led congregational singing. They were good, and of course they
filled the
chapel. The Division Chaplain realized his mistake too late, and the
best he
could do was to claim a part in the program, while allowing me to
preach as he
had requested. I preached a pretty good sermon---the first one the
General and
Chief of Staff, as well as many others, had heard for a long time.

There has been resentment among the officers that the senior staff has
been
monopolizing the young ladies. The younger officers feel this is unfair
not only
to them but to the young ladies themselves. A few planned a most
successful
revenge. They recruited one of the little native boys, an engaging
"fuzzy-wuzzy"
without benefit of English, and coached him in his role.

The traveling artists had finished dinner with the General and his
staff and,
when they emerged from the tent, there had gathered a crowd of men
waiting to
see, not the general, but the young ladies. In front of the crowd was a
grinning
little native lad holding a bunch of wildflowers, obviously for the
ladies. The
general, vastly pleased, escorted the fairest of the three toward this
tableaux.
Beckoning the little fellow forward, he urged him in English that the
boy could
not understand to present the floral tribute to the young lady.

Quite at ease, the lad moved forward, lifted up the flowers, and with a
charming
grin delivered in sing-song English the words of greeting he had
learned from the
obliging officers. In the silence, "General is goddamn sonofabitch"
fell on
astonished ears.